Carlson: Thanksgiving dinner and the Obamacare turkey

Nov. 30, 2013

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Ah, the holidays, the most glorious time of the year, when families gather to give thanks for their many blessings, eat a grand meal, worship and enjoy love and fellowship. And this year, there’s a new reason for the season.

So let’s bow our heads and produce the appropriate documents. Surely, you have the documents. You were notified by Bobby to show up at his mom and dad’s house with your Social Security number, employer’s name, a pay stub and your current health insurance information.

This is, after all, an Obamacare holiday season. The details are at www.barackobama.com, under the sparkling letters that say “HEALTH CARE FOR THE HOLIDAYS.” Shouldn’t be a surprise. It’s the same outfit that asked us to send cash to the president’s campaign last year instead of buying birthday and wedding presents.

The campaign websites — yes, they still exist in various forms — are urging Obama devotees to turn holiday family gatherings into health insurance seminars. So leave the presents unopened for a bit. Hold off serving the big dinner, too. But that’s all right. It takes a couple of hours before salmonella develops on a cooked turkey, plenty of time for those who commandeer family gatherings to deliver the message.

Their mission: Get relatives to sign up for Obamacare, even if it ruins a special day. Facilitators are advised to ambush everybody in the house with questions about, oh, their personal finances. As in, how much can they afford to pay each month for health insurance?

Imagine how that might go at your average family gathering. Any family will do.

“None of your business how much I spend,” says Uncle Freddie, who gulped down a water glass of Pinot Grigio when he figured out what was happening. “Anybody notice the gravy is starting to look like brown jelly?”

Bobby ignores the old crank. He’s been warned about skeptics. Another instruction from headquarters says, “Make it personal: Be honest about your feelings and why this is important to you. Be persistent, but keep it positive: Tell them you care about their health, and focus on the benefits that come from knowing that you have health insurance.”

This is when sweet Grandma, whose turkey and dressing are spoiling, decides Bobby is a teeny bit pushy.

“I love you dearly,” she said. “Now, I’d like you to leave us alone and shut the — ”

Bobby pushes on. His Obamacare script says, “Make it memorable!”

No problem there. Mom just said a really bad word about the day being ruined.

“You could tie your shoes with the French-fried onions in my green beans,” says Aunt Jennie. “Tell us again why we can’t have our dinner.”

“Because the president ordered us — I mean asked us — to do this,” Bobby said. “So be quiet. We’re almost halfway done.”

He reads from the script: “Have you thought about signing up for health insurance on the new marketplace?”

Silence.

“Would you like to take some time with me to sign up right now?”

Nothing.

“When do you plan on signing up? Have you signed up yet?”

Mom tells Bobby he’s an annoying little drip. She grabs the wine Uncle Freddie is hiding under his chair and chugs the bottle dry.

“Willie next door got his health insurance cancelled last week,” Dad says. “We should have invited Willie over to hear Bobby’s little talk. That’d be memorable.”

Bobby gets back on script and announces everybody has to sign up by Dec. 23, to get coverage by Jan. 1.

Cousin Louie: “The president said if you like your turkey leg, you can keep it. Period. If your turkey’s name is ‘Period.’ Har-har. This is going really well. Does the president want us to talk about late-term abortions over dessert?”

Bobby is drinking warm cider now — the four bottles of wine miraculously are empty — and he finishes up. It’s easy to sign up for the Affordable Care Act, he reads, “And almost six in 10 uninsured Americans may be able to get coverage for $100 a month or less.”

“Unless your premiums are tripled,” says one of the grandchildren. “That’s happening, you know. And something like 50 million people might lose their insurance at work next year. I heard it on NPR.”

Uncle Freddie is snoring. Grandma and Aunt Jennie refuse to eat. Lucky for them, because the others nibble lukewarm turkey and complain of stomach cramps a while later, turning it into an especially memorable day.

Bobby begs for understanding, saying he did all this for the president. And for the family’s benefit, of course, although they’re not smart enough to figure it out. The family laughs as one. Bobby says he hates them all.

Carlson is a retired Register columnist and writes twice a month for the Sunday Register.